11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Aleko

A few hours earlier…

F ucking finally, I can leave for club business without the brick in the pit of my stomach at the thought of my Cherry doing stupid shit and getting herself into dangerous situations. I think we’ve both learned from our decision making, we’ve both grown. That being said, I fucking hate leaving her. Period. She does have Ninja to keep her company, though, so that left a smile on her face.

The best part, though? Coming home to her. It’s fucking magical. Every time.

“Hey, Psycho, we got any news on the Reapers?” Without answering Prez right away, I look at my phone, checking the time, when I notice the new text message.

Flower : I had to pee and get more coffee. Tried to make a detour at King’s Dominion but got outvoted.

Frowning, I almost type back that they’re not here for a fucking vacation, but I don’t know the Reapers very well and I’m not going to be the one to piss off our much needed allies cause I don’t get their jokes. The only reason I even have a contact name is because Marco sent the deets to me yesterday.

“Yeah, they’re about four hours out.” I show the message to Prez, who chuckles as he walks away.

“This should be interesting,” he throws out over his shoulder.

Still don’t get why it’s so funny.

“Listen up!” We all turn as Prez’s deep voice fills the main room in Rocks Off. “We’ve got about four hours to make this place presentable to the public. We can’t afford to keep it closed but we ain’t putting our employees in danger, either.” Looking around the place, I nod along with everyone else. “Separate into groups. We need someone to fix the bar, it looks like someone took a fucking ax to it. Also, the lights.” Pointing to four or five fixtures on the wall, he nods to Shade since dude’s pretty handy with electricity and shit. “Those bastards went all out with our shit. Thankfully, we’ve been working on this place for the last week so these are the last of the big jobs.” Pointing to the prospects, Diablo, and me, he then twirls his fingers like a tornado. “Clean this fucking place up. It needs to shine brighter than Bear’s dome piece.”

Let the ribbing begin. Everyone's got a comment for Bear, who took a razor to his head just this morning for a close shave. I can’t imagine him with hair. I think he looks fucking badass.

“Yeah yeah, keep it up, assholes.” Shaking his head, my best friend may have the name of a big, dangerous animal, but sometimes, I think he’s too good for this lifestyle. That being said, if he ever told me he wanted out, I’d shibari his ass to the nearest chair until he took it back.

“Before you all get to work, remember…if those Irish fuckers come back, don’t get trigger happy. They’re begging for it. Soon, we’ll have the Reapers and our sister charters watching our backs, then all bets are fucking off.” We all grunt before going to our corners and starting the cleanup.

Time flies when you’re on your hands and knees…and not in a good way. If I never have to see a mop again, it’ll be too soon.

Taking a break for a beer, I catch sight of Bear as he types on his phone. I wonder who he’s texting. Has he found a woman or something? That would be fucking amazing. When he slides his phone in his back pocket, I make a mental note to ask him later.

The rumble of engines puts us all on high alert, and when I glance at my phone, I realize we’ve been at this for nearly four and a half hours. I guess the Reapers had more pit stops after that text message.

“Psycho!” Without a word, I raise my hand and walk to the club’s front door, checking the new cameras we installed last week. There’s one above the entrance and three others giving us a complete view of the entire exterior of the property. The small screen on the inside wall gives us the camera angles and what I’m seeing right now is not good news.

“Hey, Prez!” I yell out, trying not to show my excitement at going fucking Rambo on these knuckleheads. “Ain’t the Reapers out there and, let’s just say, the Irish didn’t get the memo about the happy triggers.” Reaching back, I make sure my gun is readily accessible and crunch down on my sucker, throwing the empty stick in the trashcan in the corner.

“Fuck.” Prez walks up to me and watches the screens intently. “Guess we’re gonna either talk or shoot.”

Just as I’m about to unlock the main doors, movement on the screens gets our attention and makes us grin like the fucking lunatics we are.

“Show time, Prez.” My words are low, full of anticipation, ready for a fight.

“You know what they say about looking for trouble?”

I grin, but don’t finish his phrase. Prez loves his idioms and who am I to ruin the moment for him?

“I’m sure they say a lot of shit.” Also, I’m sure it was just Elvis flexing.

“Well, young Padawan, they came to the right place, and they’re about to get really fucked up.” I can’t help it, I throw my head back and howl with laughter.

“Fuck yeah, Prez. Let’s do this.” About fucking time we shed some Irish bastard blood.

“Let’s go, Sons. Time to take the trash out.” Every single brother follows Prez to the showdown that’s about to happen right outside our club.

As we open the doors, the parking lot looks like a scene from an urban western, where the misfits are coming together to take down the band of evil brothers.

Behind me, Bear whistles, low and long, as we all walk out and surround the Irish, their backs to us.

“You know, Shorty, nicknames are usually supposed to be ironic.” The tiny waif of a girl sitting on the hood of a black van with tinted windows is teasing one of the Irish without a fucking care in the world.

No doubt, that’s Flower. With her head shaved around the sides and back and longer on top like a tidal wave on her head, she leans back, tsking, egging him on.

“Bitch, someone needs to keep that mouth busy so you’re not constantly running it.” Grabbing his junk like a fucking creeper, the Shorty guy takes a step forward and growls. “I’ll volunteer my dick in your mouth.”

Bear steps up between us, probably ready to fucking rumble like an MMA pro, but stops in his tracks when Flower gives as good as she gets.

“Nah, I’m sure I could talk around it.” For effect, she raises her pinky finger and wiggles it like she’s demonstrating the size of his dick. “I live by the adage, ‘go big or go home.’ You, Tiny Tim, make me wanna go home.” And just like that, I fucking love this chick like I love a drinking buddy.

“Fuck me, who is this girl?” Bear’s deep drawl holds a hint of awe.

Looking over my shoulder, I grin at my best friend who seems to have hard core hearts in his eyes, à la Looney Toons.

“I’m guessing that’s Flower, my very weird contact.” We’re talking casually but our hands are firmly gripping our guns.

“We like weird.” Bear’s understatement of the year.

“Yes we do, Brother. Yes we fucking do.” My words are met with Prez’s chuckle as he takes the first step toward the Irish fuckers who work for Harrison Beaufort, the owner of Risus Pharmaceuticals, and his rapist son.

With us behind them and the Reapers in front, we have them at least three to one. This time around, they didn’t come in force, but they did come heavily armed. There are other shops around here, places of business, and if we can avoid an outright shootout in the middle of the street, then we will. But one thing we won’t do is back down.

“We told you weeks ago that we don’t like being threatened on our own turf. Y’all need to get your shit and get the fuck out of here.” Prez walks up to the guy in the middle, who seems to act like the leader of this pack, towering over him by at least a foot. “Or else you’re going home in a fucking casket.”

At his words, the Irish all pull out their weapons, some facing us, others facing the Reapers, who don’t even flinch.

This makes us immediately react with weapons of our own, and in under thirty seconds, we’re reenacting yet another scene from a spaghetti western. Unlike last time, though, we’re not the ones outnumbered. Proving they’re not as stupid as they look, they lower their guns just as their boss steps closer to Prez like he wants to rip his fucking head off.

Yeah, good luck with that, asshole.

“Our boss wants to give you a message.” I roll my eyes at the guy’s mob boss cliché and I’m suddenly tired of this fucking charade.

“Maybe your boss should take his dick out of his favorite hole and come deliver his message himself instead of sending your sorry ass.” My words incite some growls and raised guns but I just grin and walk right up to the closest barrel until it’s pushing against my forehead.

“Do it, motherfucker. I fucking promise you, my trigger finger will be quicker and your sorry excuse for a cock will be gone.” That’s when the bald guy looks down and realizes my gun is on his junk, finger on the trigger, armed and ready to blow his balls off.

“What’s your message?” Prez tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes.

“We ain’t dumb. We can hear those bikes of yours a mile away. Next time we see you at the Beaufort property, we’re shooting first and not even bothering with questions.” Prez is about to rip into this Tiny motherfucker when a sing-song voice on crack gets the entirety of our attention.

“Tell your boss to bend over and get fucked with a rusty fork.” All heads turn to Flower, who is now standing on the hood, fists on her hips like a fucking superhero. The only thing missing is a cape.

“You heard the lady.” Prez is grinning like Flower’s attitude is the best thing since the introduction of electronic fuel injection.

Taking inventory of their side then ours, the Irish begin their retreat. But Tiny stops, shakes his head, and inhales a whistle.

“By the way…” By his stance, I know—I fucking know —he’s about to drop a bomb. “How’s that…whatta ya call ‘em, Jimmy?” Tiny turns to Skeever, who grins around a toothpick as he answers, his stare focused entirely on me.

“The race chief.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. The race chief. How’s he doin’, do you know?” We don’t have time to answer, or even ask him what the fuck he’s talking about, before those fucking douchebags get the fuck out of here, peeling their way out of the parking lot.

“What was that about?” Shade breaks the silence by asking the question we’re all dying to know.

“No fucking idea.” Prez is still watching their dust settle when he speaks. “But I have a feeling we’re gonna find out and not like the answer.”

Two fucking hours.

That’s how long I had to pretend I wanted to be at the birthday party instead of inside my woman. Basically one hundred and nineteen minutes too long.

“You look like you want to rip my head off. Fuck’s your problem?” Sledge tips the beer bottle up, watching me as he does, with Ninja sitting on his shoulder cleaning his paws but stopping every once in a while when Sledge makes a sudden movement. Reaching out, I click my tongue up against my teeth to call him over and grin at my brother’s pout when Ninja barely gives him a second thought. Good boy.

“No problem, I just hit my limit of peopleing.” I shrug like I want this conversation to end before they start ribbing me. It won’t take them long to figure out I’m jonesing for my girl.

“Peopleing? The fuck is that? Quit talking funny, man.” Without giving him the ammo for a comeback, I just smirk and walk away with Ninja on my shoulder.

“The fuck is that, Brother?” Behind me, I can hear him complain to, who I’m guessing is Shade, about me leaving him hanging.

“Get over it, Brother.” Nice. Shade gets it.

“Hey, handsome, are you enjoying your birthday bash?” When Violet comes up to me, my eyes scan the room until they slam into Cherry’s on the other side of the couch where she’s talking to Grinder as he gesticulates like a fucking toddler.

“Violet, listen to me.” I’m speaking to her but not looking at her because my soon-to-be wife is way too fucking beautiful. “See that woman over there?” I point to my Cherry Pie and make sure my intentions are clear as spring water. “She’s going to be my wife one day soon.” Looking down at Violet, I stay respectful because she’s only doing what the Khaos Khunts do…have fun and flirt with the Sons. Less than a year ago, I was tapping it on the regular, but that’s nowhere near my radar and I don’t want my girl to feel uncomfortable around the other women. Never that. “Tell the others I demand they respect Mackenzie by not coming on to me.” I don’t need to look in the mirror to know I’m scowling, I can feel it in the pull of my upper lip as I finish talking.

“Yeah, Psycho, of course. That’s really cool of you to do that for her. Yeah, I’ll tell them.” Giving her a sharp nod, I face my Cherry once more and stop short at the sight in front of me. One of the Reapers, big guy with a crew cut who looks like he could throw me like a fucking baseball, talking and laughing and…did he just fist bump Mackenzie?

Did he just lean in and whisper like they have some kind of private joke going on?

Oh hell to the fuck no. Private jokes? Yeah, I don’t think so, buddy. I tolerate Spencer because he was there before me and has absolutely no intention of coming between her and me, but this? This dude? I don’t fucking know him .

Before I even know what the fuck I’m doing, I’m stalking my way through the room, shoulder checking every one of my brothers who have the misfortune of being between me and my target. Somewhere in the distance of my foggy mind, I hear Bear telling me to calm the fuck down. Sledge is laughing and taking bets while Prez is yelling at Shade and Hoops to hold me down.

By the time anyone gets a finger on me, I reach Cherry, pick her up, and throw her over my shoulder like a fucking caveman ready for dinner, barely aware that Ninja has abandoned ship by escaping down my back and jumping on Boner’s lap where it’s safe. For now, I’m guessing.

“Mine.” Okay, so apparently I’m also talking like a Neanderthal, but in my defense, when it comes to getting a point across, less is more.

“Aleko! Put me down, what the actual fuck?” I’d be worried that I’m being too possessive if it weren’t for the way she’s laughing every time her face hits my ass as I practically run back to my suite. Correction: Our suite.

As I pass the Reaper, I expect him to be pissed off, like he thinks I cock blocked him or some shit. Instead, dude is grinning like a proud papa. But I don’t have time to analyze his reaction because Cherry is pinching my ass cheeks and swinging her legs, yelling at me to let her down.

I don’t, of course. Why would I? This way, we get to our suite a lot fucking faster, which means my dick will be inside her sweet, sweet pussy in a matter of minutes.

I don’t put her down when we enter, I just hike her up and slam her against the closed door. We’re both out of breath, panting like we’ve run a marathon; only it’s not from exertion. Not yet. The flush across her cheeks and chest, her tits heaving with each inhale as her wild eyes scan my face like she’s searching for the meaning of life, are all signs of lust.

“My sweet Cherry Pie…” The flimsy material of her dress rips easily when I pull it with more force than it deserves. “I’m about to destroy your cunt. You okay with that?” As if I’d wait for her to formulate words, I palm her pussy, thinking about how I need to rip her panties when my hand lands on hot, wet skin that pulses against my fingers. “Oh, you are in so much fucking trouble, Cherry.”

I’ve got a million questions about how long she’s been walking around in a dress without fucking underwear and without me being there. Problem is, if I start to ask them, my mind will wonder how many of my brothers possibly noticed. Then I’d have to kill them. All of them. One by fucking one.

Okay, fine. I wouldn’t do that. I would, however, rip their fucking eyes out so they’d wish they were dead.

With my mind reeling, I pin her to the door, my fingers—nice and wet from her unapologetic need for me—wrapped around her neck, pressing harder and harder until she moans from the pressure.

“I was going to fuck you hard and fast so we could both take the edge off, but now I just want to punish you.” The little tease simply licks her lips then smiles like I’m not cutting off the oxygen to her lungs. “Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect for me.”

My mouth lands on hers, our tongues searching and fighting and stroking like a well choreographed dance that I can’t wait to perfect.

Pushing my knee between her legs, I rub it along her wet pussy as I devour her mouth, making sure to leave bite marks on her lips so I can taste the sweetness of her blood. With my free hand, I unbutton my jeans then slide my zipper down before pushing everything down, letting them fall to my ankles. “Ready, baby?”

“God yes. Just fuck me already, will you?”

“Naw, Cherry. Not yet.” My dick hurts from how hard it is. It’s straining and leaking from the tip like it’s about to explode from the sheer heat of her pussy. Thank fuck I have enough self control to let it last at a little while longer.

Pressing the head of my cock to her clit, I slide it along her slit. Up and down. Over and over again until she’s begging beneath my palm, where every one of her swallows makes my blood buzz with the anticipation of coming inside her. Every one of her moans makes me want to worship at the altar of her perfection.

“Please, Aleko. Please.” I can barely hear her since my fingers squeeze harder and harder each time she speaks. My hips are thrusting faster and faster as my dick slides over the lips of her cunt, over and over until I’m losing my fucking mind. At this point, I’m punishing myself more than her and fuck that…I’ve been a really good boy.

So with my last retreat, I change the angle and thrust deep inside her until we’re both fighting to catch our breaths, lips to lips, mouth to mouth, dick to cunt. We’re like two puzzle pieces, cut specifically to lock together and never let go.

“Wrap your legs around my waist, baby, and let me fuck you until you pass out.” She doesn’t hesitate. With her arms circling my neck, she uses her core to hug me with her long legs as I push her harder against the door.

We pause, our mouths fusing and gliding with a kiss so hot it sets my organs on fire. Then I pull out almost all the way before pushing right back inside and not stopping until we’re screaming each other’s names. I don’t care who hears us. I don’t care who can guess what we’re doing. Shit, my caveman show earlier was proof enough that I was hell bent on making my girl come.

“Come all over my cock, Cherry. Give me the gift of you.” I don’t need to ask twice. Honestly, I probably don’t need to ask at all but I like giving her the order, it satisfies some deep rooted desire to master her. When in fact, if anything, she owns me heart and soul.

As my cock slides in and out of her slick cunt, I revel in the heat and the soft tissue that rubs against the sensitive skin of my dick. Every sense is heightened; the smell, the taste, the touch. Everything. But my sight? Seeing her so free and happy, it does something to me. It fucking makes me crazy with love and lust and possession.

She’s mine because I’m so deeply hers, I’m certain I can no longer exist without her. With our foreheads pressed hard against one another, we both let go. Long strings of my cum release inside her, over and over again. So much so, I’m hoping this feeling never ends. Her orgasm slides down my dick with every pulse of her cunt every time she tries to take a breath. Fuck, I love that I do this to her. I love that only she can bring me to my knees.

That’s when an idea comes to me, and once it does, I can’t not act on it.

Bringing both of my hands to her ass cheeks, I pick her up and swing her around until her back hits the wood of the cluttered dresser. With my elbow, I swipe every item on top to the floor and lay out my Cherry Pie like a feast for my starving eyes and mouth and soul.

As soon as she’s laid out and open for me, I slap my palms on the backs of her thighs and widen her position until my shoulders can fit between her legs and my mouth can latch onto her soaked pussy.

The thought of my cum and hers mixing together like an elixir that could and will create life from our love, makes me a ravenous beast. Licking and sucking, I push my tongue deep enough inside her that I can scoop up a dollop of orgasm and let it rest on the tip of my tongue.

As I move away from her pussy, I finger fuck her with two digits before sliding up her body and fusing my mouth to hers.

I don’t kiss her. I fucking destroy her mouth, making sure she swallows our cum. Tastes our love. Understands that she and I aren’t a temporary thing—we never were. I have no idea how long we’ll live, but I do know that my life is forever linked to hers. And hers to mine.

“We taste so good, Aleko.”

“You and me, baby, we’re divine.”

With my fingers fucking her, she comes again, and fuck me if it’s not the sweetest, most delectable sound ever created.

And I made it happen.

When she almost passes out from the intensity of her orgasm, I pick her up and take her to our bed where I kiss every inch of her before taking off the rest of her clothes as well as mine.

“I love you, Cherry Pie.” With her back to my front, I place one leg between her thighs and soak up the heat of our bodies pressed together.

“Mmm, I love that thing you did with your tongue. You know, when you shared our cum with me?” Chuckling at her bratty answer, I pinch her nipple hard enough to make her squeal, pulling her impossibly closer so I can bury my nose into her neck and inhale her unique cherry scent deep into my lungs.

“Cherry, don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Fine. I love you too, you big brute.” That’s much better. My beautiful girl likes to play with my emotions.

“Tonight was perfect. You’re perfect. Thank you for the birthday party…and the gift of your pussy wrapped around my cock.” I grin at my crude words, knowing it’ll only make her horny again.

Pressing my thigh to her core, I smirk behind her hair when I feel her wet heat coat my skin.

“If you thought that was great, I can’t wait for you to see your actual birthday present.”

“Yeah, no way anything tops what we just did.” She can’t convince me differently, either. Nothing is better than fucking her.

“Bet.”